May is Foster Care and Mental Health Awareness month, and in the past couple weeks, I’ve written about the impact of trauma on infants and on young children, and how trauma that occurs in the context of relationships can only be healed within healthy relationships. At A Home Within, we start conversations with the community with the simple mantra “Relationships Matter Because Relationships Heal.” It might seem like common sense, but when it comes to children who have experienced repeated trauma in their short lives, it can be hard to hold so simple an idea in mind. By definition, relationships occur over time, growing and gathering strength as they navigate ups and downs, challenges and triumphs. One of the insidious things about trauma, though, is that relationships – the very nexus of children’s social, emotional and behavioral development – are too often a source of confusion and challenge.

As infants grow to toddlers, and young children head to school, their connections with caring adults become ever more numerous and more diverse. Events such as starting school bring children into regular contact with the larger world. Friendships become increasingly important. Social skills outside of the family become the focus as friendships become more and more important.  Children in this age group also begin to compare themselves to other kids – to see how they “measure” up.  This is a critical time for children to develop confidence in all areas of life, especially socially.

As children enter the school-age years, they begin to show signs of a budding independence. This period of growth is also marked by the active pursuit of, and genuine appreciation for, new relationships. Parents, or primary caregivers, continue to be the most important people in the child’s life, but relationships with peers become increasingly important. In fact, the appearance of a “best friend” is frequently a feature of the school-age years. Other significant, and often defining, characteristics of this phase of development are children’s capacity to control their urges and conform to an appropriate standard of behavior without direct supervision. Collectively, this is known as self-regulation.

Children who have been traumatized see the world as a frightening and dangerous place. When childhood trauma is not resolved, this fundamental sense of fear and helplessness carries over into relationships. This often causes confusion about relationships in general.  Boundaries are often blurred due to the fact their personal boundaries were not honored. It is important for adults to notice when children need help and offer it without being asked and to continue to make offers even when help is rejected.  This can be difficult because traumatized children often do not send clear cues about whether they secretly want help or really want to be left alone.

Even though traumatized children often mistrust adults, it is important that they have ample opportunity to spend time, initially in small doses, with adults.  Teachers, coaches, mentors, and other adults in the lives of school age children all have opportunities to support their emotional development by engaging them in conversations, attending important school events, and creating interesting outings as demonstrations of interest and care.

When caring adults learn to recognize the signs of trauma and learn to respond in ways that promote healing, they are empowered to turn routine conversations into opportunities for healing. Consider just three simple examples:

• Traumatized children often don’t trust their intuitions.  It is important for them to learn to read and trust physical sensations as messages from their bodies. I can be very helpful for a trusted adult to talk with children about the possible reasons for a stomachache – whether it be the flu, easting too much or not enough, or feeling worried.  The more children become aware and can trust their bodies messages the more they will value their own physical well being.

• Traumatized children can become confused at the idea of down time.  Sitting quietly may trigger anxiety as if it is the calm before a storm.  Capturing a time when a child with a history of trauma is quiet and reinforcing quiet time not only provides comfort for a child but also demonstrates the usefulness of taking time to expand one’s sense of calm.  It is important for children to understand that their bodies need time to rest and relax and that this is something they can do to help themselves.

• School age children often engage in lengthy conversations about “accident” and “on purpose” in addition to “accidental-on-purpose.”  Adults can use these words to help children understand the care behind enforcing rules to protect their safety.  A deeper explanation by a trusted adult can help traumatized children understand what real accidents are and the hurtful nature of purposeful abuse which expands on notions of what good physical boundaries are and what are not.

Jared, a 10-year-old boy who witnessed domestic violence between his parents for years has finally been removed from his home and lives with his grandmother whose first language is not English.  She and Jared are unable to discuss much about his experience, though she can care for his basic needs and is kind to him.  At school Jared often picks fights with other kids when he feels left out or ignored.  Casual glances or curious stares from other children are often misinterpreted, leaving him feeling he has no friends at school or in the neighborhood. Jared’s heightened sensitivity to social cues and his inability to use words rather than act out suggests his emotional development has been interrupted.

When Jared’s teacher recognized that recess was the most emotionally charged part of the day for him, she helped him anticipate and prepare for a potentially difficult situation. Jared’s teacher began “check ins” with him each day before recess. She helped him to think about how he was feeling before he got to the playground. She learned that he was often frightened and worried that the other kids wouldn’t let him play with them. With that information she was able to help Jared and Emile, another somewhat shy and socially awkward child, begin playing together. After several weeks she and Jared decided that weekly check-ins would be enough. The check ins allowed him to begin to recognize and talk about his feelings, which will eventually help him to develop a broader emotional vocabulary, more self-regulation and confidence. In the meantime, the teacher created an area of emotional safety by pairing Jared with Emile.

Jared’s story illustrates how a teacher can use an understanding of trauma to frame her understanding of behavior and use an intentionally relationship-based strategy to address both his internal and social needs. As Jared bonds with Emile and experiences recess as a time of fun and friendship, the anxiety and conflict that originally cued his teacher can be expected to decline, freeing him to enjoy and benefit from recess, developing self-confidence and skills in problem solving, planning, cooperation, and exploration, not to mention just having fun.

Every day in the life of a school-age child is filled with learning, growth, and development. We all know that every child is unique, and the pervasive effects of trauma can make the needs of each equally unique. Learning to recognize and understand trauma allows us to turn day-to-day challenges into opportunities for healing as well.

By Toni Heineman

Last week, to kick off Foster Care and Mental Health Awareness month, I wrote about the impact of trauma on infants like Janelle, and how trauma that occurs in the context of relationships can only be healed through relationships. For each of the remaining weeks this month, I’ll offer perspectives on trauma and healing across three other developmental stages: this week, toddlerhood and early childhood; next week, school-age children; and, at the end of the month, I’ll write about trauma among teens and young adults.

The extraordinarily rapid physical and neurological development of babies continues right into toddlerhood. Children use their bodies to actively explore the world. They roll balls, push strollers, walk along walls, and jump from steps. As they move and manipulate their bodies in relation to their physical surroundings, they begin to learn how things work. Children also watch the people around them, imitating and copying their actions, for example, pretending to make dinner, feed the baby, or hammer a nail.

Verbal comprehension and expression develop seemingly overnight at this age. Toddlers often begin speaking in single words, progressing to two- and three-word sentences. As they learn that they can use words to influence people, they begin to ask for what they want and express their feelings. With these new physical and verbal abilities, children can begin to exercise restraint and collaborate with adults regarding simple rules.

Yet emotional difficulties that result from trauma, like depression and anxiety, can interfere with emotional and social development, affecting relationships with other children and adults; they can also interfere with cognitive functions such as the ability to focus and embed new memories, both of which can interfere with learning. For example, a traumatized child who is preoccupied with disturbing memories will be restless and easily distracted while a caregiver is reading aloud. Unlike her non-traumatized peers, she will have a hard time sitting still, which can be annoying or distracting to others, and she’ll have a harder time following the story, which makes her less likely than the other children to retain any new vocabulary the story offered.

As they get older, children begin to show more interest in making friends. They move from playing next to each other to playing with each other. They develop particular interests, and bond with others who share them. Spending time with other children becomes fun, and children seek out favorites. While most children become interested in being around large groups of kids, toddlers and preschoolers suffering from trauma may be easily over-stimulated by other children, particularly when the play becomes boisterous or when there are several (or more) children involved. They will likely need adults’ help in learning how to initiate and sustain play with other kids,.

Traumatized children are often confused or unaware of their own feelings, both in terms of the signals they receive from their bodies and their emotions. A traumatized child might become suddenly impatient with another child and lash out when she is actually just hungry; or she has a harder time sharing toys; or she becomes possessive of the adults at the daycare center she attends. She may become overstimulated by too many toys, and overwhelmed by too many choices. Trauma has an extraordinarily powerful effect on neurological functioning,. Increased levels of stress hormones in the brain keep the body primed to take action (the “fight or flight” response); an observer might witness either increased aggressive behavior or a withdrawn child who appears very flat or numb. In either case, other children may be disinclined to seek out such a child for play

The adults who were supposed to care for children who’ve been traumatized have often ignored or criticized the children’s feelings; these children to believe that their feelings don’t matter, or even that their feelings led to bad things happening These children need a lot of help from both in naming their feelings and in learning that feelings aren’t dangerous, even unpleasant ones. Young children who have suffered trauma may be particularly emotionally sensitive, with rapid and intense shifts in mood. This may require that caregivers respond frequently to their distress and spend significantly more time soothing them than they would with other children.

Alberto hasn’t told his foster parents why, but he is very scared of mice. He won’t go into a room unless someone looks inside first and checks for mice. If he thinks he sees a mouse, Alberto will usually scream and cry, and can’t be calmed down. Bedtime can be difficult because he’s worried about the mice appearing when everyone’s asleep. Alberto will stay awake for hours until he finally passes out, exhausted. He has just started preschool, which has not been going well. The teachers have called home several times because Alberto became scared, and they don’t know what to do to help him

It’s likely that Alberto believes that if he can avoid mice, he can avoid being scared. Because feeling scared at times is an inevitable part of life, Alberto needs help learning how to manage feeling afraid. .

Alberto’s foster parents, Luis and Marta, start by telling him that mice are not so scary. They read him stories about how helpful mice can be, such as the tale of the mouse who pulled the thorn from the lion’s paw. When Alberto thinks he spots a mouse, they pick him up and tell him he is safe. Once he calms down a bit, they ask him if the mouse he saw might be a nice mouse who is there to help. Together, Luis and Marta look around with Alberto to see if they can find the mouse and ask him if he’s a nice mouse. They also have a meeting with the preschool so that his teachers will also know to help Alberto identify if mice are friendly and helpful.

While it’s important that Luis and Marta give Alberto a different idea about mice that he can draw on, it’s also important that they don’t dismiss his fear. They pick him up when he gets scared, and assure him that he is safe and not alone. Coordinating this approach with the preschool allows his teachers to reinforce the message that scary things can be approached together with others, and might not even be that scary after all.

Luis and Marta have found a way to respond to Alberto’s fear that soothes his anxiety, reinforces his ability to learn about and manage his feelings, and supports the development of their own bond with him. The very process of addressing his fear in this way can thus have long-term effects. At the heart of our work at A Home Within and Fostering Relationships is the understanding that relationships matterbecause relationships heal. For caregivers and other adults supporting traumatized toddlers and young children in their early experiences of the world, simply remembering the power of relationships is an essential first step…

By Toni Heineman

Photo courtesy of s.bellevuecollege.edu

Child psychologist with a little girl

During the month of March we are invited to honor social workers, many of whom are the lynchpins of the foster care system—caseworkers. These are the people who have the day-to-day responsibility for ensuring the safety and well-being of children who have come to the attention of the child welfare system. Most children enter foster care because of neglect—some because of abuse—physical and/or sexual. They are injured, frightened, and vulnerable children who need the protective care of adults.  The responsibility for creating permanency for these children—whether through reunification with their parents, adoption, or guardianship—falls to the caseworkers.

It would seem that we would want the people we entrust with this level of responsibility to be trained and well-informed. However, less than 30% of child welfare workers have either a Bachelor’s or Master’s degree in social work and over 80% of states have no requirement for professional credentials for caseworkers (CWLA, 1999). In practical terms, this means that we are asking people without relevant education or training to provide services and support to children and families during periods of extreme distress and upheaval.

The stress of attempting to perform well without adequate education or preparation is compounded by caseloads that often far exceed the Child Welfare League of America’s recommended 12-15 cases per worker. Imagine having responsibility for more than 100 children who have been removed from their families. In some instances, a worker might have to drive several hours to make the recommended monthly visit to a child. High caseloads significantly impinge on a worker’s capacity to spend the time necessary to get to know each family and arrange for the services that would give them the best chance of recovery and reunification. Too much work and not enough time also result in delays in the court hearings necessary to keep a case on track for a permanent plan for a child.

It is most unfortunate, but hardly surprising, that the rate of staff turnover in child welfare ranges between 20% and 40% annually, draining precious financial resources that could be used more effectively to retain and support staff with enhanced training  (American Public Human Services Association [APHSA], 2001, 2005; GAO, 2003).  Of course, high staff turnover drains not only financial resources, but human resources, as well. The morale of the workers left behind drops and, if they have to cover additional cases, the quality of their work suffers. Supervisors must keep their attention focused on overseeing and teaching the basics to new workers rather than enjoying the satisfaction of helping more experienced caseworkers hone their skills.

Of course, when a caseworker leaves, every child and family on her caseload suffers the disruption of another relationship. Sometimes caseworkers take or make the time to say goodbye, and sometimes they are so emotionally depleted that they just disappear, leaving those they worked with and cared for wondering and perhaps worrying about what happened.

Too often caseworkers shoulder the blame for the ills that beset the child welfare system. It is important that we remember the very traumatic scenes they witness every day, the very difficult challenges the children on their caseloads present, and the very hard work they do to try to make things better for families. We owe them our respect and heartfelt thanks.

By Toni Heineman

The news of the relationship between foster care and the sex trade has made its way to the Capitol. In recent testimony before the House Ways and Means Committee former foster child, Withelma “T” Ortiz Walker Pettigrew, cogently outlined the multiple ways in which the structure and function of the child welfare system create a smooth pathway from foster care to the sex trade.
Not least of these is the fact that foster children generate income for the homes in which they reside. Whether the money that follows a foster child is sufficient to cover the costs of her stay in the foster home is another question for another time. The fact is that adults are paid to care for foster children.

As Pettigrew points out, from the perspective of the child, there may not be a significant difference between being the source of income for a foster parent and the source of income for a pimp. When children’s worth is measured in dollars by their caregivers they have no other way of gauging self-worth.
Consequently, many foster children grow up without an inherent sense that they are worthy of care, respect, and unconditional love—period—the end.

Foster children who are valued for the money attached to them by the child welfare system are, fundamentally, interchangeable. Thankfully there are many foster parents who care much about the children and less about the money, but for those who take in children primarily for financial reasons, keeping the designated beds filled matters much more than who is occupying them or for how long. In these cases, children learn that their best strategy may be just to “shut up,” in the hope that they will at least keep the roof over their heads.

Unlike children raised in their biological families, there may be no single person in the life of a foster child who is not paid to care for her—no adults who are there just because they care. When foster youth do encounter adults who want to have a relationship with them without the strings of money attached they are often terrified of what that means. Relationships based on care alone leave the parties vulnerable to loss in a way that financially supported relationships do not. It happens often that, just when foster youth are feeling closer to their therapist, they announce: “You don’t care about me. You’re just seeing me for the money.” When therapists who are volunteering through A Home Within respond, “No. I don’t get paid for this. I do it because I care,” they
send a powerful message to young people who have come to see themselves as no more than a meal ticket for foster parents, caseworkers, attorneys, tutors and coaches—in short, an entire system of adults who benefit financially from their misfortune.

Pettigrew ends her testimony with a plea for a system that would appoint “one person who will follow them throughout placement changes whether it be a CASA or a mentor, these youth should have a constant ally throughout their time in care and this person should also be available whether or not a youth is in placement.” We couldn’t agree more. The relationships with adults who volunteer with foster youth are not constrained by finances or placement changes. The therapists who offer weekly pro bono psychotherapy through A Home Within pledge
to maintain the relationship “for as long as it takes.” Many of the children and youth have stayed in touch with their therapists for over ten years, long after the weekly therapy drew to a close.

All children need at least one stable relationship with a caring adult.
In every community there is a need for CASAs, who can advocate for foster youth, and for mentors who can help them navigate the world of school or sports or work, and for therapists who can help them reflect on their experiences and learn about themselves.

By Toni Heineman

“Never talk to strangers.” This important lesson in personal safety often involves a period of confusion and anxiety as young children try to understand who is a stranger and why it’s okay to talk to some strangers and not others. From the point of view of a child who has just been admonished not to talk to strangers, parents who casually chat with the person next to them in the grocery line or strike up a conversation with unknown parent at a playground are behaving quite recklessly, indeed. Eventually, by observing their parents’ behavior, children learn that it’s usually acceptable to chat with someone at a store or the playground, but not advisable to leave the premises with that person.

Lessons in personal safety do not come so easily to foster children, who, rather than learning to protect themselves from strangers, learn that their very survival may depend on their interactions with strangers. They must talk with strangers on a routine basis. The person who removes a child from the care of a neglectful or abusive parent is a stranger who then delivers the child into the home and hands of yet another stranger, usually with reassurances that this unknown person will provide food, shelter, and emotional safety.

The chances are good that children will not stay in the first placement, but will be introduced to strangers many times over the course of their stay in foster care. On average, foster children will be in three placements, but many will live in a dozen or more homes.
Rather than having the time and opportunity to assess whether the new people will provide physical and emotional safety, these young children must quickly discover what they have to do in order to have their needs met. Do the new foster parents expect children to speak politely or is this a house in which you need to shout to get what you need? Sometimes other foster children will help them navigate this new emotional landscape, but many times they will have to fall back on their own resources to figure out how to survive.

When we place children in the homes of people they have never met, we give them the message that strangers can provide safety and security. Rather than help them learn to establish protective physical and psychological boundaries, we repeatedly expose them to situations in which instant closeness is the implicit expectation. Families are made up of very intimate relationships. When we drop a child into the midst of family dynamics he has two essential choices—to establish himself as the outsider—the one who doesn’t belong—or to try to become a part of this new group. The possibility of belonging is almost overwhelmingly seductive.

Foster children’s survival depends on learning to talk well and easily to strangers. These well-learned lessons make them vulnerable to those who promise to love and care for them. Because they have had to learn to say “yes” to the demands of so many strangers they have had little education about when they need to say “no” for their own protection.
This subtle but dangerous dynamic sets the stage for foster children’s falling prey to strangers who would use them for their own gain and, in so doing, abuse the minds, bodies, and trust of these children.

By Toni Heineman

People talk about the sex trade and sex trafficking. The problem is that it’s not sex that’s being sold—it’s people. Poor people. Young people. Poor young people. It should not surprise us that the most vulnerable among us are the most likely to fall prey to sex traffickers. Some of these are people who are so impoverished that they have nothing to sell except their bodies in the hope that they might have a bite of food in exchange for allowing themselves to be used. Others, as Nicolas Kristof describes, are children whose parents’ mental illness makes it impossible for them to protect their offspring. Some go so far as to use their children as a commodity to help support their own addictions.

Unfortunately, the group that makes up the largest percentage of children victimized by the sex trade comes from the foster care system.
These children are supposedly under the care and protection of the very government agencies that determined that they needed to be removed from their parents because of the abuse and/or neglect they suffered while in their custody. It is impossible to know how many children are exploited by sex traffickers, but estimates suggest that as many as 80% of them have been solicited directly from the child welfare system or have spent time in foster care during their childhood or adolescence.

Image courtesy of Jon Fife.

What makes these children so vulnerable? The odds are stacked against them. Pimps are smart about relationships—their livelihood depends on knowing how to get people to do their bidding. Foster kids are not smart about relationships—staying alive has often depended on learning how to please others. When a pimp offers a young girl or boy the promise of care and affection he has touched on the profound longing that sits deep in the heart and soul of most foster children. And yes, these are children, often barely into their teens.

Like all children, foster children need relationships with adults for care and protection. Unlike many children, they have never had a stable, lasting relationship with an adult who provided unconditional love.
Instead, their misbehavior or complaints to foster parents about food or house rules may have resulted in their being moved to another foster home and then to another and another. It’s not hard to understand how they come to believe that relationships last only if they please the other person, without regard to what is being asked of them.

Image courtesy of edenpictures.

These are disconnected kids, hungry for connections. Without the emotional intelligence to alert them to potential relational dangers, any show of interest or attention offers the possibility of a new beginning—a relationship that will finally fill the aching void created by too many disappointments and too many people who left them behind. Foster kids expect instability in the child welfare system. They know that caseworkers and foster parents come and go. They don’t look to those in the system for stability; indeed they have learned not to form attachments within the system.

Pimps know this. They know that the mere fact of their being outside the foster care system gives them an unfair advantage, making their professions of interest and affection seem all the more genuine. Foster kids don’t know that they are being sold a bill of goods and that they are about to be offered for sale.

By Toni Heineman

This question came from a friend who had opened her home to a young woman I’ll call Anna, who was attending a summer program in her community. My friend wanted her guest to be comfortable; she wanted to make sure that some of Anna’s favorite foods were on hand, that she had the information she needed to navigate the public transit system, and that the family’s schedule meshed with Anna’s school schedule.

“When I ask what kinds of snacks she’d like or if there are foods that she really likes or dislikes, she just shrugs and says, ‘Anything is fine.’ When I noticed she didn’t eat any of the cake I had for dinner one night, she apologized that she really doesn’t like nuts all that much. We could easily have had a dessert without nuts. Maybe she’s just trying to be polite but it seems like more than that. It’s confusing not knowing!”

Anna grew up in foster care. She had lived in seven different homes. It seemed that during her tenure in the child welfare system Anna, like so many foster children, had learned either not to ask for what she wanted or had not learned how to tell people what she wanted or needed.
Sometimes foster children don’t actually know what they want or need because no one has taken the time to help them identify their likes and dislikes.

Image courtesy of Sebastian Garnier.

Telling someone what you want is risky business. Letting others know what’s important exposes you. It leaves you vulnerable to disappointment, but it also leaves you open to all of the feelings that come up when your needs or desires are met.

Suppose Anna had risked telling my friend that she really didn’t like nuts. What if her hostess had ignored or forgotten that information? Would Anna have to eat the cake anyway so as not to embarrass her?
If nuts were banished from the family table during Anna’s visit, would others in the family be annoyed with her? Would she feel guilty for imposing on everyone? Maybe it’s better just to avoid the question.

This is a small and seemingly inconsequential example of the choices foster children make all the time. They choose, whether consciously or unconsciously, just to put their needs and desires aside rather than risk the pain of having them ignored or forgotten. Even worse, sometimes, having them met—leaving them feeling guilty, burdensome, obligated, or overcome with longing for even more gratification.

As for the other player in this interaction, my friend’s reaction is not uncommon. From her perspective, she was just asking for a simple bit of information. She didn’t want to have to ask two or three times.
She didn’t want to have to worry that Anna was not comfortable in her home. She found herself increasingly distressed by what felt to her like a lack of cooperation from Anna.

Image courtesy of findingtheobvious.

From our conversation, my friend understood that Anna’s reluctance to offer the requested information might be an act of self-protection. She sensed that she had withdrawn a bit from Anna and that she had dampened her earlier enthusiasm about Anna’s visit. She renewed her efforts to be a gracious hostess and make Anna’s stay as pleasurable as possible.

This was only a brief summer stay. Anna was not in a home with a foster parent whose annoyance might eventually build to the point of her being moved along to a different placement. We don’t know the reasons behind Anna’s reluctance to make her desires known. We do know that this particular self-protective stance makes it difficult for her to engage in the kinds of relationships that would meet her needs and wants.

By Toni Heineman

For children who have to leave parents behind and enter foster care the caseworker is one person who can bring stability to their lives. As Alexus Colbert writes about her time in foster care, caseworkers who are can and do make an important difference for children whose lives are filled and uncertainty and loss.

Alexus also reminds all of us that repeated losses make children wary of forming new attachments as a means of protecting themselves against the pain of being left again. “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” begins to wear thin when the pain of the first loss is compounded by another and yet another.

They, like Alexus, begin to wonder why they should open themselves up to caring about a new person if the chance of that person staying around is small. It is extraordinarily sad that we put foster children into situations where they learn to harden themselves against love by the time they are five or ten or twelve years old.

One of the many unfortunate consequences of shunning relationships with adults is that children become prematurely self-sufficient. They don’t want to risk the vulnerability associated with wanting or asking for something. Sometimes it’s not that they need help—maybe it’s as simple as not asking for or accepting an adult’s offer to read a story or join them on a trip to the park. Relationships are built on small interactions like these.

Photo courtesy of Steve Kay.

Caring exchanges that happen over and over again bind people together. The foster mother who gently braids a child’s hair, the caseworker who brings a favorite snack on visits, the teacher who offers a smile of greeting all tell the child with their actions that they care, that the child is important to them.

The child will come to count on them, to believe in her importance to them. But if one leaves unexpectedly, her belief that she was important may be shaken. It is not only the frequency of the losses experienced by foster children that is disquieting but their unpredictability. For example, elementary school children expect to move on from their teachers at the end of a school year; they can prepare themselves for a parting of the ways. However, it is a very different experience if the teacher leaves with little or no warning in the middle of the school year. That will be a much more unsettling experience for the students.

Unlike the loss of a teacher, which is shared by all of the students in a class, a child’s loss of a foster parent or caseworker is often a solitary experience. Even though the caseworker, like the teacher, may be leaving many children behind, those children may not know or have any contact with each other.

One of the very saddest hallmarks of life in foster care is its solitary nature. Foster children are surrounded by people who have responsibility for bits and pieces of their care. Because there is no single person to keep them in mind, they learn too early keep their minds to themselves. That is a very lonely way to grow up.

We at A Home Within know that we all like the feeling of being in kept in mind. When someone smiles and says, “I’ve been thinking about you,” we know that we have been held in the mind of someone who cares about us and that we don’t actually have to be with that person to continue to exist in his mind. When a child is greeted by a caseworker, or foster parent, or therapist with “You’ve been on my mind,” she can relax a little, knowing that someone cares enough to think about her, even in her absence.

By Toni Heineman

We know that holidays are not always merry and bright. Certainly, we are acutely aware of that this year, with the tragedy of Sandy Hook still fresh in our minds as thoughts of the devastation wrought by Hurricane Sandy had barely been absorbed. For many, the holidays will provide a distraction from the enormity of the losses that these events inflicted on families and communities. For others, the holidays will be painful reminders of what has changed and what is gone forever.

Children and families in communities struck by tragedy will be joined in mourning, rather than celebration, this holiday season. The somber mood of the community will reflect the sadness of its members. We are saddened, not only by their losses but also by the knowledge that this season now will always come with memories of the first holiday without those they loved.

Those children whose losses have been more private may find themselves unsettled by the holidays in a somewhat different way. If everything around them—music, decorations, and bright lights—seems virtually to demand that they share in the holiday cheer, how are they supposed to understand their feelings of loneliness or sadness or longing for better times? Even if the hurt is not of the magnitude caused by the death of a sibling, or parent, or the destruction of one’s home, recent losses can easily disrupt children’s participation in and enjoyment of the holiday season, especially if they feel that there is no one to share their painful feelings.

Photo courtesy of h.koppdelaney.

Parents who have recently separated in preparation for divorce may find that their efforts to maintain holiday traditions do little to calm their children’s anxieties about how they will manage to keep their favorite toys and books in two different homes. Recognizing that their parents are working hard to be cheerful, they may feel as if they have to keep their sadness and anger to themselves or that there is something wrong with them for having those feelings at all.

Children in foster care, especially if they have recently been moved into a new home, may also feel terribly alone and confused during the holiday season. Perhaps they are the only foster child in a family joined by biology, or the newest of several foster children who have been together long enough to understand the rules and workings of the family. If they are still making the psychological transition from their own biological family or a previous foster home they may simply feel too apprehensive and disorganized to join in any festivities, thereby only intensifying their sense of isolation and loneliness.

We wish that all children could share the many joys of the holiday season—the warmth that comes from being with family and friends and the pleasure that comes from giving to others. We are also sensitive to the fact that for many among us, the holidays are a time of feeling set apart from the spirit of the season. Our hearts go out to those whose holiday memories bring more sadness than joy and our earnest wish for them is that they find themselves close to caring adults who will be even more acutely aware of their special fragility during this season.

By Toni Heineman